


This Is Some Promised Land

by assholemurphy



Series: Stories From The Promised Land [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Edited for spelling/grammar, Kinda shippy but not really, M/M, Monty's POV, Post Season 2, Slightly less OOC if you believe in hearteyes!murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholemurphy/pseuds/assholemurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being saved by Murphy, Monty wakes up in the bunker, unaware of where he was. Once he gets his bearings, he realizes that he isn’t alone, Murphy’s there with him and was the one responsible for tending to his injuries. Murphy attempts to take care of him as best he can while Monty heals. It’s strange, having someone like Murphy be the one to take care of you, but Monty’s done worse now, so he can’t really judge. Maybe the Promised Land isn’t so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Some Promised Land

**Author's Note:**

> This one's pretty much a sequal/second part to Welcome To The Promised Land, it's less OOC, but still a bit shakey, sorry.

A dull ache in his leg was what woke him. The soft, pillow-y mass that surrounded him is what caused him to jerk upright, which, in hindsight, wasn't a great idea. Holding back a groan, Monty looked around the room he was in, trying to remember what exactly had happened before he'd blacked out.

He remembered lying on the beach after that snake thing had tried to eat him, which explained the ache in his leg and the pain in his side, but it didn't explain the room he was in, the bandages on his leg, or the mass of blue sheets and pillows surrounding him. Clutching the soft fabric in his hands, Monty closed his eyes and tried to remember.

He was lying on the beach, his leg was broken and then there was... There was what? No, not what, who. There was someone who picked him up and brought him here. Someone who'd taken care of him, made him safe. He'd been saved by-

“Murphy?” He said aloud, face scrunched up in confusion. “Why the hell would Murphy help me?”

“Well, don't ask me, 'cause I don't know, either.” The voice from last night came from the doorway.

Opening his eyes, Monty looked up at Murphy, unsure how to react. This was _Murphy._ The guy had tried to kill Bellamy, and Jasper, and Charlotte, and he'd succeeded in killing two others, whose names Monty couldn't remember. They'd hanged and banished him. Banished him like Monty had banished himself. He guessed that meant they weren't as different as Monty would like to think. After all, they were both murderers, weren't they? And Monty had killed more people than Murphy, so he really couldn't judge anymore, could he?

Murphy cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh, so, this is for you, if you want it.” He held up a bowl and a bottle of water and slowly approached the bed, like Monty was a wild animal he didn't want to frighten.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Monty nodded, still confused by the situation. He didn't remember Murphy being anything but one of Bellamy's uncaring minions. It was quite a shock. “Um, did you, uh-?” Month gestured vaguely to his leg before taking the offered food and drink.

“Yeah.” Murphy nodded once, flicking the light switch next to the bed. “Fixed your side, too. Does it hurt?”

Monty was dumbstruck. Murphy, the psychopath they'd kicked out of camp, had not only saved him, but bandaged him up, tucked him in, and gave him food. Honestly, the whole thing was giving him a headache. “Yeah, a little bit. Thank you, for fixing it.”

“I'll get you something for it, hold on. And drink.” Murphy ducked his head and retreated from the room, leaving Monty alone to stare at the empty space where he'd been standing.

Shaking his head, Monty opened the bottle of water and took a sip, which soon turned into chugging the whole bottle. He hadn't realized how thirsty he'd been. Turning his attention to the food next to him, it looked alright, looked good, actually. He wasn't sure if he should eat it, though.

“It's just rice and it's not poisoned.” Murphy huffed, returning.

“I didn't know you could cook.” Monty muttered, embarrassed. Murphy had saved him form bleeding out, why would he do that just to poison him.

“Yeah, well, you don't really know anything about me, so...” He trailed off with a shrug.

“I didn't mean-”

“It's fine. Nobody knew me, nobody bothered to, it's fine.” He scowled and set another bottle of water on the table by the bed. “Figured you'd need it.”

“Thanks. I'm sorry if I offended you, I didn't mean to, I-”

“Stop.” Murphy cut him off. “Take two of these every four hours.” He motioned to a clock on the wall. “I'll be around if you need anything else.”

Monty watched as he stalked out. Stupid, stupid, he was such an idiot. _There you go, offending the one person you actually know around here._ But Murphy was right, he didn't know him. He didn't know anything about the guy, really. Granted, he hadn't been the most approachable person and Monty really wasn't to blame for not getting to know him, but he had obviously offended the guy. Maybe his cooking skills were a sore spot. _Or maybe it's because he saved your life and then you acted like he'd actually poison you._ There was that, too.

Sighing, Monty reached for the bottles on the nightstand. Two pills every four hours. He looked at the clock, it showed a little past one, Monty assumed it was the afternoon, so he'd take more at five. Easy enough. He swallowed the pills and half the bottle of water before turning his attention back to the food.

He was hungry, extremely so, and Murphy obviously wasn't a threat to him, and it did look really good, so, what'd he have to lose, really? He picked up the bowl and fork, settling it on his lap. Murphy had said it was rice, but there was more than that. Monty wasn't sure what all was in it, but it smelled fantastic and his stomach growled as he looked down at it. “Alright, then, let's get it over with.” He muttered to himself, scooping up some of the rice and bringing it to his mouth. He hesitated for a moment but took a bite nonetheless.

_Okay, that's good._

He stared down at the bowl in shock. Who'd have thought Murphy would've been a good cook? Maybe that's why he'd been assigned to the meat tent, it made sense, sort of.

He finished the bowl, quickly, a bit quicker than he'd like to admit, really. He felt full and content, more so than he had in a while, and to think, he was here, in Murphy's place. Was it Murphy's place? He hadn't heard or seen anyone else, and Murphy hadn't mentioned anyone, so maybe he was alone. The idea struck Monty as a little sad, him being all alone for so long.

Shaking off the thoughts, Monty sat the bowl to the side and swung his legs off the bed. He had to use the bathroom, but he wasn't really sure where it was or how to get there, but he didn't want to risk upsetting Murphy again, so he figured he'd take his chances on his own.

Monty stood up, putting all of his weight on his good leg. He hadn't really examined the bandages before, but now that he could see them properly, he could tell that Murphy hadn't just taped it up, he'd actually set his leg back into place. Monty wondered how he knew how to do that. He didn't think Murphy had any medical training, but, who knew?

Taking a deep breath, Monty slowly out some of his weight on his bad leg. No, it wasn't a good idea, but it wasn't like he had crutches or anything. He bit his lip as the pain increased, maybe he should just yell for Murphy. _No._ No, he would do this on his own. “Just a step, come one, you can do it.” He whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and took a step.

“Shit!” He yelled, his leg giving out underneath him. Of course it had been a bad idea, he knew that, but _dammit,_ he didn't think it would hurt this badly. The pain was blinding, it felt like his leg was breaking all over again. He laid there, taking shallow breaths as the pain tore through him. He groaned as he heard hurried footsteps coming towards the room. Murphy had heard him yell, he was in for it now.

“What's wrong?” Murphy asked as he entered the room, “What'd you do? Monty?”

“Over here.” Monty forced out through gritted teeth.

“What the hell did you do?” Murphy shouted, kneeling down next to him. “Why didn't you call for me if you needed something?”

“Didn't want to bother you.” Monty admitted, burying his face in his arm. He wasn't sure what was worse, the pain in his leg or the anger in Murphy's voice. “Sorry.”

“Damn right you're sorry. Fucking shit, Monty, I _told you_ I was around. The entire point of that was so you'd know to call for me instead of being a fucking idiot!”

“I'm sorry, alright?” Monty shouted back. “I just didn't want to make you any angrier!”

“That worked really well, now didn't it?” Murphy shot back. Running a hand down his face, he took a deep breath, calming himself down. “What did you need, Monty?”

“I need the bathroom.” He mumbled into his arm, refusing to look at Murphy.

“Alright. Let's get you up, then.”

“Okay.” Monty agreed. The pain had subsided enough that he was fairly certain he could get up, but having Murphy to hold on to made it easier. He pushed himself up off the floor and grabbed Murphy's shoulder.

“Ready?” Murphy asked, gripping Monty's arm tightly.

“Yeah, yeah, let's do it.”

“Alright.” Murphy pulled Monty up off the floor, grabbing him around the waist when he'd got him righted. “Wasn't so bad, was it?”

“Easy for you to say.” Monty panted out. That had hurt more than he'd like. “When are those pills supposed to kick in, anyway?”

“About half an hour after taking them, provided you aren't a complete dumbass.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Ready to walk? The bathroom's just over there. I could carry you if you like?” Murphy smirked.

“Shut up.” Monty grumbled, hopping along, using Murphy as a crutch. “This is going to be awkward, isn't it?”

“Yep.”

“No way around it?”

“Nope.”

“Great.” Monty shook his head, hating every moment of this. He had no problem relying on people, but he just couldn't get used to the idea of _Murphy_ helping him. It was such a strange concept, like he'd ended up in a parallel universe when he'd crossed the water.

“Okay, I'm going to stand out here and you can kinda hop around and do whatever, alright?”

“Hop around?” Monty asked, raising an eyebrow at Murphy.

“Yeah, you know, like a bunny.” Murphy nodded, smiling slightly.

“Murphy, are you comparing me to a rabbit?”

“Well, you are small, fragile, and harmless, so, it's fitting, really.”

“Also adorable, right?” Monty chuckled.

Murphy just shrugged. “Go, hop around, bunny man.”

“Whatever. You totally think I'm adorable.” Monty laughed as he closed the door. He wasn't sure how they'd gone from shouting to joking so quickly, but he didn't mind. It was nicer, that was certain. Maybe Murphy would be bearable, after all.

It wasn't as hard as he'd expected, hopping around, but he still hoped his leg would heal quickly. Hopping was not the best mode of travel. After washing his hands, _god what he wouldn't give for a shower_ , he exited the bathroom, hopping over to Murphy.

“Ready to got, Peter Rabbit?” He asked, a smile on his face.

Monty couldn't remember ever seeing Murphy smile at the dropship. Smirk, yeah, but never smile. He found he rather liked it when the older boy smiled. “Who's Peter Rabbit?”

“It's a children's book. About rabbits. My mom, she used to read it to me when I was a kid.” Murphy explained, wrapping his arm around Monty's waist again, careful to avoid hitting his wound.

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom sounds nice.” Monty continued awkwardly, not really sure how to proceed, but he did want to get to know Murphy, at least while he was here. Which raised the question of just how long Murphy would let him stay, but Monty decided he'd rather wait on that conversation.

“She was.” Murphy's smile dropped. “In the beginning, anyway.”

“What happened?” Monty asked without thinking.

“I'd rather not talk about it, alright.” Murphy stopped the discussion.

“Okay.” If Murphy didn't want to talk, Monty wasn't going to push. He figured he'd been lucky to get as much as he did out of the other boy.

“And here's the bed.” Murphy muttered, letting Monty down gently and pulling away. “Now stay in it this time.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Monty apologized, rubbing his side absentmindedly.

“Don't do that, you'll mess up the stitches.” Murphy swatted his hand away.

“Stitches?” He had stitches? Murphy had given him stitches?

“Yeah, that thing got you pretty bad. Had to stitch your side and leg, too. It wasn't easy, so don't pick at them.” He scolded.

“You can cook, you can sew, wow, Murphy, is there anything you _can't_ do?” Monty chuckled.

“I can't program the TV.” He answered honestly.

“You have a TV?” Monty asked, surprised.

“Yeah, in the den. Or, well, I assume it's a den, anyway. But it doesn't matter 'cause I can't program it and it just plays the same thing over and over.”

“I could take a look at it, you know. I am good with that sort of thing.” Monty offered.

“Sure, knock yourself out.” Murphy agreed. “After your leg is better, though. No point in fucking it up more just to fix a television.”

“Yeah, okay.” Monty yawned.

“Tired?” Murphy asked, smiling again.

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Hand me the bowl and go to sleep, then.”

“Bowl?” Monty asked, confused. There was a bowl? He turned around, looking at the bed, and, yeah, okay, that bowl. “Right. Thanks, by the way, it was good.”

“Thanks.” Murphy nodded, taking the bowl from Monty. “Go to sleep now.”

“M'kay. Goodnight, Murphy.” Monty mumbled, pulling the covers over his head.

“It's the middle of the afternoon.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Murphy.”

“Goodnight, Monty.” He chuckled, flicking the lights off as he left the room.

* * *

Monty woke up several hours later, the pain in his leg returning with a vengeance. He groaned, turning over and trying for the light switch. After successfully lighting the room Monty sat up. He grabbed the bottle of pills and shook two into his hand, swallowing them down along with the last of his water. He'd have to ask Murphy for another bottle.

Sitting up fully, he yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He blinked, looking around the room, still not adjusted to his surroundings. “What the-?”

Monty scooted along the bed until he reached the end, examining the strange objects leaning against it. They looked like tree branches with lumps of cloth taped to them.

_Crutches._

Murphy had made crutches for him. Monty couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. For someone who'd acted so cold and cruel back at the dropship, Murphy seemed to be a pretty decent guy. Maybe they should have taken the time to get to know him.

Turning the crutches around, Monty noticed a note with a crudely drawn rabbit stuck to one of them. Pulling it off and unfolding it, Monty read the scratchy handwriting;

_Monty,_

_Not that you don't look adorable hopping around like that, but these should help you at least go to the bathroom on your own. Hope they work right, if not, we'll fix it or something._

_Murphy_

_Also, if you want, you can come out onto the balcony with me. It's just through the door and then it's the second door to your right, through there is the balcony. Don't fall._

Monty laughed when he was done reading. Murphy was not the jerk he'd had him pegged as. Maybe a bit rough and grouchy, and definitely sarcastic, but he seemed to care and didn't ask many questions. At least, not yet. That was good enough for Monty.

He braced himself using one of the crutches and stood up, maneuvering the crutches around so that he could use them. They were about two inches too long, but he assumed that was an easy fix.

He followed the directions and found himself outside the door to the balcony. It was open and he could see Murphy sitting on the railing overlooking the beach. The view was much nicer when he wasn't dying of blood loss. “Murphy?” He asked, tentatively, not wanting to startle him.

“Monty, you're up.” He smiled, sliding off the railing. “They work, then?”

“Couple inches too long, but yeah.” Monty nodded, returning the smile. Yeah, he'd stay here for a while. Not being alone was a wonderful feeling, one he imagined Murphy was experiencing, too. “Well, this is some promised land you got here.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated. Find me on tumblr if you want, it's also assholemurphy.


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